


Bespoke

by Theobule (Saathi1013)



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, F/F, POV Female Character, POV Third Person Limited, Seduction, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 11:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3809248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saathi1013/pseuds/Theobule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the Daredevil kink meme: 	</p><p>"Vanessa/Karen, seduction.  Vanessa takes over the reins of Fisk's business. Somehow this leads to her dubconning Karen into sex. Idk I just want it." -- http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/725.html?thread=1237#cmt1237</p><p>I wouldn't call it dubcon, exactly (sorry, I'm just not great at writing that), but I think I got everything else.  </p><p>Post-series / post season 1, Karen goes undercover to try and get dirt on the remnants of Fisk's empire and gets more than she expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bespoke

**Author's Note:**

> No beta; grammar/spelling errors, if pointed out, will be corrected ASAP. Additional concrit: pm me.
> 
> Prompter!Anon, if you want me to tag you here as the giftee, just let me know.

Karen doesn't fidget while Ms. Marianna glances over her resume. Half of it is made up, but Foggy's got connections, friends of friends and former clients who owe him favors, so it'll hold up. Long enough for her to get the information they need, at any rate.  
  
Unfortunately, even if she does find dirt on the rallying remnants of Fisk's organization, they can only use it for leverage. It won't be admissible in court; Matt had said something about poisoned fruit? She's not Snow White, but she does kinda feel like she's in the crosshairs of an evil queen when Ms. Marianna skims her gaze over to evaluate Karen as dispassionately as she had the resume.  
  
"You're applying for the gallery position," Ms. Marianna says. It's not a question, but she pauses to see Karen's reaction anyway.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Karen says, straightening her shoulders, lifting her chin. "I've always wanted to run my own gallery, but I need experience, you know..."  
  
Ms. Marianna gives her the echo of a smile. "Oh, I know," she says. "It's nice to see an applicant with real ambition, though. There are far too many idle rich girls who treat the job as a novelty that'll give their art history degrees some legitimacy and provide access to broody young artists or eligible bachelors." She sets Karen's resume aside with a sigh. "And they're right, of course. It's just such a waste of time to repeat the hiring process every six months."  
  
"Well, I'm not one to judge," Karen says, smiling and dropping her gaze. "I kind of had my own 'brooding artist' once." It's not even a lie; her relationship history is pretty colorful.  
  
"To tell the truth," Ms. Marianna says, lowering her voice to a stage whisper, "so did I." Karen laughs, just as she's supposed to, and the other woman's smile becomes warmer, more genuine. Almost like she's  _not_  a violent crimelord's fiancee and rumored understudy.  
  
"Well, if it's any consolation, I think I got it out of my system?" Karen offers.  
  
"That's reassuring," Ms. Marianna says, and sighs again. "Sadly, I've already hired another candidate for that job."  
  
Karen sags incrementally. She'd been so sure... "Oh," she says. "Well, thank you for-"  
  
Ms. Marianna interrupts her with an uplifted hand. " _However,_  after your first interview, my hiring manager suggested you for another position. One for which your skillset is better suited."  
  
"Oh?" Karen asks. "And what would that be, Ms. Marianna?"  
  
The other woman's smile gets wider, sly and certain. "My personal assistant," she says, and Karen just barely keeps herself from gaping. She gives Karen another once-over, slower this time. "The job is yours, if you want it - on two conditions."  
  
Karen licks her lips, somehow more nervous at being offered the job than coming in here to begin with. "What- What conditions?" she asks, voice steady through sheer force of will, promising herself a  _really_  strong drink after this.  
  
"First, we need to get you a new wardrobe. You seem to have a good eye, but a terrible budget. I'll fix the latter."  
  
"Um, thank you, I don't know what to-"  
  
"It's a business expense," Ms. Marianna says, flicking her fingers in dismissal. "It won't do to have you giving the wrong impression to my business associates."  
  
"Well, I'm still grateful, Ms. Marianna," Karen says. She tucks her hair behind her ear. "What's the other condition?"  
  
"Call me Vanessa." Her voice is rich and warm, lifting all the hair on the back of Karen's neck. "Welcome to the family, Karen."

 

***

 

As it turns out, when Vanessa said, "we need to get you a new wardrobe," she meant, 'I'll pick you up on a Tuesday afternoon in my armored town car and we'll go to a boutique you've never heard of and I'll  _help you shop_  for an entire afternoon while a dozen bodyguards stand at each entrance to the building.'  
  
The boutique's owner leads them to a private room in the back; there are a few racks of clothing, shoes neatly lined up on the floor, handbags hanging from pegs on the wall, and a three-paneled mirror. There's also a side table with coffee and tea and a bottle of white wine, and a plush loveseat and chair, the latter of which Vanessa claims after dismissing the staff with a graceful wave and a grateful smile.  
  
"Try whatever you like," Vanessa says to Karen, filling two wine glasses and offering one. Karen takes it, sipping with nervous haste. "I gave them your measurements; everything should fit."  
  
(And hadn't  _that_  been hilarious to explain: 'My new fake boss wants to know my shoe size.' Foggy's eyebrows had shot upwards and he'd made a comment about weird rich people with more money than sense. Matt had grinned, while Karen had giggled and answered the email.)  
  
There's a privacy screen in one corner, and Karen ducks behind it with her first selections. When she unzips the first - an aubergine sheath dress - she blinks at the tag. "Nnnnope," she whispers to herself, setting that one aside. The next is just as outrageous, and she fumbles through the hangers, familiar names on every label. She drains her glass, needing a little liquid courage before she leans around the side of the screen. "Um, Vanessa?"  
  
The other woman looks faintly amused, as if she's been expecting this. "Yes?"  
  
"Are you sure-?"  
  
"Absolutely," Vanessa answers, genuine pleasure in her tone.  
  
"...okay," Karen says, helplessly, then retreats. "Okay," she breathes to herself, and reaches again for the aubergine dress, surrounded by Klein and Karan and Siriano and Balenciaga. Eventually she just stops looking at the tags when she shimmies into each piece, careful and almost reverent.   
  
The only mirrors are out by the racks, where Vanessa's sitting, ready with her glittering inspection, her commentary. Vanessa's never anything less than complimentary; she saves her criticisms for how the clothes look  _on Karen,_  which is a fine distinction. "Every designer has their own client," Vanessa tells her, standing behind her as they stand in front of the mirrors. "It can shift from year to year, season to season, but dressing well isn't about chasing  _them,_  changing yourself to suit the trends. It's about building a wardrobe with the trends that suit you." Her hands close around Karen's elbows, warm and steady as her smile.  
  
Karen nods. She's always understood that, but it's a little more difficult to internalize when she's wearing clothes that cost more than her rent and which she's only ever seen worn by runway models.   
  
"Here, let me find you something," Vanessa says, and crosses the room to rifle through the racks, muttering over each piece. Karen follows, trying to see what she sees. "So much black and white, it'll do nothing for your coloring unless you want to shift that a bit with cosmetics, but it would be a shame to hide that complexion, or to cover this hue," she tells Karen, stroking her hand lightly over Karen's hair. "Feretti will make you look like a toddler, we can skip all those. Burberry's too bohemian this season, you'll look like you're trying too hard. Chanel has a few good staples, as always, but some of the silhouettes are all wrong for your figure. Ah, here." She hands Karen a rich dark green jacket, a pale cream blouse, and a skirt in a color somewhere between wine and chocolate.  
  
"Sure," Karen replies, a little dubiously. It's not a combination that she'd have picked for herself, but she's willing to give it a shot.  
  
When she comes out from the changing area, Vanessa lights up and she beckons Karen over to the mirrors. "Ah, see? Come, look." She straightens the collar of the jacket, brushes down the hem of the skirt, fingertips grazing Karen's knee. "What did I tell you?" She gathers Karen's hair in one hand, twisting it gently to drape it over one shoulder.  
  
Karen surveys herself, surprised at the subtle changes she sees. The autumnal colors make her look more mature, but not  _older,_  exactly. More serious, without being dour. The green of the jacket brings out the gold in her hair, somehow makes her eyes icier. "I see what you mean," she says.  
  
Vanessa's hands rest gently on the back of her hips, her gaze appreciative. "Good," she murmurs. "We'll need to tailor the jacket, of course, but that's to be expected. Take it off, let me see fit of the blouse." She's already reaching up, fingers curling against the back of Karen's neck, tugging gently at the fine wool. Karen ducks her head to hide a shiver, pretending to fumble with the button.  
  
"It's a little-" Karen says when Vanessa's drawn the jacket down and away; she suppresses the urge to cross her arms.  
  
"Well, yes, you would be wearing a shell underneath," Vanessa comments, twitching the seams of the semi-sheer blouse into place and plucking at it where it tucks under the skirt, evening up the gathers. Her palm lands on the small of Karen's back as she turns to survey the effect, burning like a brand through the silk. "Simple enough." Her other hand fusses with the collar before she slides two fingers along the visible line of Karen's bra strap. "I'll give you a budget for... incidentals."  
  
Karen swallows, realizing just how  _close_  Vanessa is, their bodies glancing in half a dozen places with each movement, each breath. "That's-" she says, almost a whisper, "This is all too much, I couldn't possibly-"  
  
Vanessa's eyes in the mirror are dark, knowing and calm. "It's up to you," she replies, layering meaning in each syllable, "Consider it a perk of the job, if you like." She drops her hand; it grazes against Karen's chest and smooths down her waist, stopping when her pinky hits the band of the skirt.  
  
Karen inhales shakily, watching that patient touch wait there, curved over her belly button. The motion makes light glint off an almost indecently large diamond. "Your fiancee?" she says, using the fear of Fisk's specter as a lifeline.  
  
"My husband allows me my indulgences," Vanessa says, leaning in so that her breath ghosts along Karen's jaw. "As I've allowed him his. Does that bother you?"  
  
Karen shakes her head, licking her suddenly-parched lips. It's such a cliche, isn't it? Getting seduced by her boss. And yet, Vanessa's presence sends a rush of real, undeniable electricity along her nerves. Karen finds herself leaning back, increasing the contact between them. "...no," she answers finally. "I'm not bothered. It's fine."  
  
As Vanessa's hand slips lower, Karen tells herself it's for the case. She already knows it's a lie.

 

 

 

 

\-- end --

**Author's Note:**

> As I said on the kinkmeme:
> 
> "...there's also something kicking around the back of my mind about Vanessa not being an idiot and knowing who Karen is and not caring ("keep your friends close" and all that), and about Karen going back to the law offices where Foggy goes "so how did it go" while Matt frowns, smelling Vanessa's perfume everywhere and Karen's just like "..." but I think what I have here can stand on its own. hopefully."


End file.
